The Shepherdess and the Fay
by Jane Marie
Summary: This is a story that is original, about a shepherdess named Belle and her adventures or perhaps misadventures after she meets a certain little man... rating may change
1. Cassie Can't Hunt!

Belle sighed to herself in frustration as she laid down her shepherdess crook. Just to be positive, she counted the sheep again and found that she was one short. Honestly, she had fallen asleep for just a moment and now one of her sheep were gone. But how could she have possibly stayed awake on this wonderful day? It was early spring, and the smell of rosemary and jasmine drifted in the air, lulling her in its gentle caress. Everything was in bloom, all green and bright colors.

"It isn't my fault," she grumbled to herself, as she started off in the direction of the field of sheep. "Father shouldn't have indulged Miles in his silly notion." Her mind flicked back to this morning, at the breakfast table.

It had been her parents, herself, her twin brother Miles and her older brother Dorian at breakfast that morning, the usual crowd. Miles had been chattering away about how he thought that he should teach Cassie how to hunt. Cassie was their sheepdog, rather, _Belle's_ sheepdog. Cassie and her had been great companions ever since the O'Leary family had decided to invest in a small flock of sheep.

And now, Miles was talking about teaching her to _hunt_ of all things. "Miles, you're being silly. Cassie is an Icelandic Sheepdog. She's meant to herd things, not to kill them."

"Well, I don't know, Belle." Her father said, a twinkle in his eye. "Cassie usually clears the barn of any rats and things, so why not a few squirrels or rabbits?"

"Father does have a point, Belle," Miles said haughtily, his nose in the air. "There hasn't been a single rat in the barn because of Cassie."

Belle stared at her brother, openmouthed. She could not believe that he was being so uppity about the entire affair. Cassie was her dog, not his. "You can't have her anyway," She said triumphantly after a moment of panicked thinking. "I need her to help me with the sheep."

"Now now, Belle," her mother admonished, handing her a bowl of porridge, "I'm sure you could handle one day without Cassie, if only to appease your brother. Would it really be that bad?"

In desperation, Belle had looked to her other brother Dorian. He always took her side in things like this, when he bothered to speak up. This wasn't one of those times. At the present moment he seemed too preoccupied with his breakfast to care about the current conversation.

Belle pouted and stirred her porridge to cool it. "Okay," she said reluctantly. Her father had kissed her on the forehead for being what he called a 'good sport' and she had smiled weakly back at him.

Now, as Belle walked off towards the forest in search of the lost lamb, she repented her decision to give in so easily. How would she ever explain this to her parents? Belle had never lost a sheep before, and she had been a shepherdess since she was twelve! That was three years without one casualty.

At least the forest was as bright as the meadow, or nearly. True, there was a bit more shade, but the new leaves that filtered the light tinted it green. Belle thought that she could hear the far off sound of a bell and went toward it. The sheep that had gone missing was one of the lambs, and she always tied bells around their necks in case they started to wander. This was the first time she had been grateful for her insistent habit.

She was rather enjoying her brisk walk through the forest, despite her reason. Belle just hoped that the flock was okay with neither Cassie nor her there to oversee them. She quickly pushed this thought away and picked up her pace.

Along with the sound of the bell, she could hear the sound of a brook. The silly lamb had probably gone off to get a drink. Sighing in aspiration, Belle picked up her skirt of blue-dyed muslin and walked a bit quicker.

There she was. The lamb raised it's head and looked at Belle, who promptly caught it by the bell around its neck and scorned it. "Can't you stay with the others? Come now, we have to get you back to your mother."

Belle stood up, beginning to pull the lamb along behind her. But that was when she saw it. For a moment she was absolutely still, gaping in awe at the sight. It was like nothing she had ever seen before.

When she regained at least part of her senses, Belle fell to her needs and scooped up a handful of the plentiful gold coins, her other hand burrowed in the sheep's wool. Gold and silver coins weren't the only thing in the cauldron, however: it was filled with jewels, crowns, tiaras, necklaces…everything. To Belle it seemed enough to buy the world with.

The oddest thing was that it was just sitting there behind a bush, nearly in plain view. Belle was stunned, and now she heard a cry of surprise and someone was pulling on her hair.

Belle turned and saw what she could only guess was a leprechaun. When she was in this kneeling position, his head only came up to her shoulder. His hair was a shock of red and his beard matched. He was wearing an outfit of black breeches and a green jerkin and matching hat. His ears were pointed and he had a pipe in his hand.

"Hello," Belle said, not without a small tremor in her voice. She had never met a leprechaun before, and wondered if they were nice. "Is all of this yours, sir?" she asked, speaking of course of the fortune at her knees.

"Yes it is, lass," the leprechaun said looking her over carefully. His eyes were a shade of gold that set Belle on edge. "What might your name be?" he asked her.

"Arabella, sir, but my family and everyone in the village just calls me Belle." She said quickly. Then the little man smiled at her, setting her at ease. Perhaps he wasn't the evil creature she had at first suspected him of being.

"Well now, Belle, you can call me Seamus. I'm a leprechaun, and you seem to have stumbled on my pot of gold. Tell me, what are you doing in this forest in the middle of a fine spring day such as this?"

"I had to find my lamb, Mr. Seamus. It wandered off from the flock." She told him, still holding onto said lamb, who was happily chomping away on some nearby grass.

Seamus sat down on a rock and lit his pipe with his thumb, a feat which Belle was mystified by. "Seeing how as you found me treasure, the laws by which I live dictate that you'll be getting to keep it." Belle opened her mouth to speak, but Seamus cut her off. "See here now, don't you know you aren't supposed to speak unless spoken to? Honestly. As I was about to say, I'd be willing to make a fair trade for me gold back."

Belle looked at him for a moment, considering. "What kind of a trade?" she asked finally.

"Why, a fair one of course." Seamus said with a twinkle in his eye that was akin to her father's.

Belle pursed her lips, not amused in the least. "No, that's not what I meant. I _meant_, what would you trade for it?"

"I suppose I could trade you some wishes for it. I'm one of the fay folk, don't you know, and so's I can do all sorts of magic."

"Wishes?" Belle asked suspiciously. Her hand tightened on the sheep and she stood up. "Could you follow me so we could talk about it, Mr. Seamus? I really need to get back to my flock, Miles took Cassie today."

Seamus jumped up and hopped on the lamb's back, who didn't seem to mind in the least that she now had a passenger. "Who're Miles and Cassie?" he asked conversationally as they walked through the forest and toward the meadow.

"Miles is my brother and Cassie is my sheepdog."

"Why has your brother got your sheepdog? He's not the one playing shepherd, is he?" Seamus asked, stretching and puffing smoke rings into the air.

"No, he thought it would be a good idea to teach Cassie how to hunt, sir," Belle said, stepping carefully over a fallen branch. The field was coming into view, and Belle silently counted the sheep. She smiled and tossed her long strawberry blond hair over a shoulder when she finished. Amazingly, no more of the sheep had wandered off.

Critically Belle looked up at the sun and noticed that it was about noon. The rumble in her belly told her that it was time to eat, so she sat down on the rock where her shepherdess crook and basket lay.

Seamus jumped off of the lamb and sat down next to her. Belle looked at him as she picked up her basket and asked, "Will it offend you if I eat? You may have some, if you like, Mr. Seamus. I've got plenty."

"Well, that depends on what you've got, lassie."

"A good-sized apple, some bread, some cheese, and some goat's milk." Belle told him, taking out each of the items in question.

"A bit of that apple looks mighty good." Seamus said, putting his pipe away.

"Oh," Belle said dubiously, frowning. "I'm afraid I haven't anything to cut it with."

"That's alright, lass. I can handle it." Amazingly, Seamus picked up the apple and cut it with his thumb in an action that Belle couldn't quite follow with her eyes. He handed the apple back to her with roughly a quarter missing. "Thank ye, lassie."

Belle decided that Seamus was unsettling, to say the least. As she ate her lunch and watched over her sheep, she snuck quick glances at Seamus. She was just beginning to realize that she was sharing her lunch with a leprechaun. Certainly this was in the very least a strange occurrence, considering that even though she had heard any number of stories about leprechauns, no one she knew had ever met one.

"So, what do you think of taking some wishes in return for me gold?" Seamus asked her.

Belle wrinkled her nose, which was lightly sprinkled with freckles. "I don't know. Would I be able to wish for anything?"

"Anything but more wishes, of course. That's always against the rules." Seamus winked at her, as if he was sharing a private joke. Belle smiled back. He was right, after all: wishing for more wishes was always against the rules.

"Well, how many would I get?"

"How many wishes do you think is worth all of that gold back in the woods? Now remember, lass, you can wish for anything but more wishes."

He did have a point there. In her opinion, just one wish would be worth all of those wishes, so long as it counted. However, since he had brought in his own bit of well-known legendry… "Three wishes seems fair to me, Mr. Seamus."

"Right-o. Three wishes it is, keeping to the tradition. Are there any more things we need to clarify?"

Belle thought for a moment, pondering. There had to be something else. "I don't want to have to make them all at once, Mr. Seamus. I want to be able to think about them for as long as I want."

"Fine," Seamus said, "But I don't want to have to pop up every time you think you know what you want, lass. I do have things to do, don't you know."

"That's fair enough. How about I come and visit you whenever I want to make a wish? Would that be okay?" Belle asked seriously.

"Oh, sure. Just go to the brook yer little lamb was at this morning, toss in a white rose petal and say the words 'I seek one of the fay.' One of us will appear and guide you to me."

Belle frowned at the little man. "Are you serious? You aren't lying to me or anything, are you?"

"No, bonnie lass! I could get in some serious trouble if I were to lie to you. Some of the other fay don't look kindly on lying straight to a mortal's face. I promise you'll be able to reach me if you follow my instructions."

"Okay," Belle said, a bit more relaxed. "I think that's it."

"Alright then," Seamus said, standing up and brushing off the seat of his breeches. "I, Seamus, one of the leprechauns," he intoned solemnly, closing his eyes, "Promise to grant this mortal three wishes under the terms we have specified over this meal." Seamus opened his eyes and smiled at Belle. "There you go, Miss Arabella. You've got my word as a leprechaun. I'll be seeing you around, then," he said, and promptly disappeared.


	2. A Wish or Two

It was a few days later when Belle was in the marketplace of their little village. Her mother had sent her to go pick up some small items and Miles was watching the sheep today instead of helping Father and Dorian with the farm work.

Belle thought it was nice to be able to go to the village for once instead of being all alone with only the sheep for company. She was equally pleased that Miles had tired of trying to teach Cassie how to hunt and had returned her shortly after Seamus had left.

Now there was an interesting thing. Belle hadn't quite decided yet if she had dreamed the entire affair up, or if it really was real. She hadn't tried to contact Seamus again, not knowing if he was real or not. Besides that, Belle couldn't really think of anything that she could possibly want to wish for.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she walked into the local tavern, which also served as a general store and an inn. Gwendolyn, who was the daughter of the man that owned the place, smiled and walked over to her.

"Hello, Belle! I haven't seen you or any other O'Learys in a while. How are you?" Gwendolyn had her golden hair tied back with a blue ribbon that matched her dress. It looked very fetching on her, and Belle nearly sighed at how pretty she was. Belle had always longed for golden curls like Gwen's, but instead she had strawberry blond hair that hung perfectly straight.

"Oh, I'm fine Gwen. Could you get these things for me…" and she ticked off the things that her mother had sent her for. It was mostly things that they couldn't make at home: coffee, sugar, flour, those sorts of things.

Gwen was very chatty as she got the things for her. Belle talked with her, she had always liked Gwen. Gwen was the only child of the widowed tavern owner, and around the age of eighteen years, the same as her brother Dorian. Just as Belle thought about her brother, Gwen seemed to also.

"So, how is Dorian? He never gets out anymore, I haven't seen him in ages…"

Belle thoughts she heard a twinge of longing in the older girl's voice. Everyone in the village knew that Dorian was sore for Gwen, and she felt the same about him. But Dorian was so shy that he'd never have the nerve to as Gwen's father for her hand in marriage.

"Oh, Dorian's fine," Belle said distantly, an idea forming in her mind. "Gwen," she said confidentially, leaning close as the older girl handed her the purchases, "If my brother – Dorian, that is – were to ask for your hand in marriage, would you marry him?"

Gwendolyn's pale cheeks turned rosy. Not a single freckle marred that flesh, unlike on Belle's cheeks. "Why would you ask such a thing, Arabella? Didn't Clara O'Leary teach you anything about being polite?"

The way that she had acted after giving Belle her answer was an answer in itself. Mr. Seamus had said that she could wish for anything and he would be able to do it…so when Belle got home that afternoon, she went outside to the barn on the pretense of giving her father a glass of lemonade.

Although she liked to think that she and Dorian were close, their father was the only person that he would really talk to. On occasion Dorian would have a full length conversation with Belle, but none of them had been about Gwendolyn. Belle was trusting in the likelihood that Dorian would talk to his father about Gwen.

Her father thanked her for the lemonade and guzzled it all down right there. He smiled at her and ruffled her hair, asking her how it was to have the day off from her tasks.

"I like it well enough, I guess," she said, smiling impishly at her father. He was the only one that she would smile like that to, her mother would scold her for it and her brothers would roll their eyes. "I saw Gwendolyn Mac Toole at the tavern, she's the one that got me the stuff Mother sent me for. I think she really likes Dorian. How come Dorian won't ask her father if he can marry her?"

Rueben was a large, intimidating man. He was bulging with muscles, and stood over six feet tall. But now, as gentle as one of the lambs she cared for, he sat down on the milking stool and pulled his only daughter on his lap, running a fond hand down Belle's hair.

"Everything's not as simple as you think, Belle. Dorian's a shy fellow, and doesn't handle social situations well. He'll come around and ask for Gwen's hand eventually."

"So he does want to marry her?" Belle asked, looking at her father with eyes that were the same shade as his: an eerily light blue.

Her father laughed and kissed her on top of her head. "You know," he said critically, "You're getting a bit old for this. You're already fifteen, I can't believe it." He smiled at her, and considered her question. "Yes, Belle, I do believe that our Dorian is ready to settle down."

Their conversation continued on, and ended in short manner. Since Belle was at home instead of Miles, she had his chores to do, and her father of course had his own to tend.

So the next day Belle convinced Cassie to stay with the flock while she went into the nearby woods. This was no small feat, considering how fond Cassie was of her. She walked more slowly then she did the other day, able to enjoy the forest at her leisure.

Belle slipped her hand into her apron pocket when she heard the cheery sound of the brook. She had the rose petal Seamus had said she would need, and an extra one just in case. Belle stopped in front of the brook, struggling for a moment to remember the words Seamus had told her.

"I seek one of the fay," she said clearly after tossing the petal in the water. After a moment of tense anxiousness, a little point of light zoomed at her and pulled at her hair. The…thing…startled Belle enough that she nearly fell over.

"Don't be frightened," the little light said, "I won't hurt you. I'm Kessa, the fairy. Who sent you?"

Belle licked her lips nervously. "Mr. Seamus, the leprechaun," she said, using the same form of address Kessa used. "He said I could talk to him if I did…" Belle gestured at the brook and noticed that the petal had disappeared. "Whatever it was that I just did," she trailed off uneasily.

Kessa laughed, a sound that was a match for the merriment of silver bells. "Yes, that's Seamus for you. Come here now, girl," Kess said affectionately, and flew in front of her face. "Now, close your eyes and don't open them until I say you can."

Belle was expecting Kessa to begin leading her in some direction or another, but instead she suddenly felt warm all over. The air was filled with the scent of spices and cinnamon, and Belle couldn't help but inhale deeply. She heard Kessa giggle and tell her to open her eyes.

She was somewhere in a cave perhaps, but it was a very nice cave. Seamus and the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen were seated quite near the fire, taking tea. The woman had flowing silver hair, but she was far from old. The cut of her dress showed off her perfect figure, and her violet eyes surveyed Belle. A woven crown of flowers topped her hair, and her ears were delicately pointed.

"Oh, what's this, Seamus?" the woman asked, setting down her tea cup. "A charmed mortal girl?"

"Nothing of the sort," Seamus said quickly, barely glancing at Belle. "I have an agreement with her." Then he did look at Belle, and arched an eyebrow. "Well, lass? Do you want to make a wish or not?"

"Yes," Belle said quietly, finding herself blushing. "Just one."

"Well then, spit it out!"

"I wish that my brother, Dorian, would ask Gwendolyn Mac Toole to marry him."

The woman sitting with Seamus smiled the sweetest smile Belle had ever seen, and said, "Aren't you the dear one! Come here, child," she beckoned to her.

Belle walked forward, carefully, looking at the ground. The woman tilted her chin up, so Belle was looking at her. "What pretty blue eyes you have! And such nice clean hair and cute freckles. You are a darling thing…"

"Emmeline," Seamus said fitfully, "Leave her alone. Go, lass, I've granted your wish, see if I haven't."

"Oh, do stay," Emmeline said in a teasing manner, catching Belle by the hand, "And do take tea with us. You're so pretty. Do you have a wit about you too?"

"I'm not sure, madam," Belle stammered out, seating herself in the stool that suddenly appeared behind her. "I should like to think so, anyway."

Emmeline poured her a cup of tea and offered it to her. Belle took it and sipped, it was cloyingly sweet and tasted of honey. "So, you've spent a wish on your brother! Tell me of him, and of this Gwendolyn too," Emmeline cooed, turning Belle on her stool and beginning to braid her hair.

"My brother's name is Dorian, milady," Belle said. "He's about eighteen years old, and still lives at home. He took after my mother in looks, with blond hair and green eyes. Dorian's rather quiet, and a very hard worker."

"And what of the maid, Gwendolyn? And what makes you so sure that she'll want to marry your brother?" Emmeline's voice had a lilting quality to it, as if she was pleased that Belle had called her 'milady.'

"Oh, Gwendolyn's the greatest beauty in the village, and the richest too! Her hair is curled naturally, and such a glorious golden color. Gwen's eyes sparkle with kindness and cheer. Everyone in the village loves to be around her. As for her wanting my brother, I know it's certain. I made sure before I came here to make my wish."

Emmeline asked her questions about her family and herself, lulling her into a sort of trance. Belle felt safe as long as she heard this woman's voice, and felt her fingers in her hair. Seamus, directly across from her, puffed sedately on his pipe. The heady smell of tobacco filled her nostrils and she sighed, contented.

Belle's eyelids drooped over her light blue eyes as Emmeline asked her, "And what of you? Have you not a proper following of lads in the village?"

"Oh no, ma'am, I don't usually see persons my own age, except for Miles."

"What a pity! That such a great beauty as yourself should be wasted on naught but her own family."

Belle sighed and sipped her tea, still in a dazed set of mind. "It's not a waste, Lady Emmeline…although, sometimes I do wish that I may meet someone to my liking, and who would love me. Sometimes I have these fantasies where a prince would come and whisk me away, and make me a princess, and that we would live happily ever after. I do so wish that something like that could happen!"

Belle didn't see it happen, her eyes having closed again, but Seamus tensed as soon as the word wish came out of her mouth. When her proclamation was over and she was humming lightly to herself, Emmeline threw a mischievous look over the young girl's head.

"Damn you, Emmeline," Seamus said quietly, but not without a smile of his own. Then in a much louder tone, "Don't you think you should be getting back to your flock, little lass? They're bound to be mighty lonely without you."

"Oh!" Belle said, sitting up quickly. She had been half lounging on Emmeline's lap, but now she was standing with her long hair plaited into two braids. The braids had flowers intertwined in them. "I forgot about the sheep! Oh dear, I hope Cassie kept them safe!" Belle looked around, trying in vain to find a way out of the cave.

"Kessa will take you back, just the same way you came lass." Seamus said, and the little point on light flew towards Belle from where she had been sitting on the mantle over the fireplace.

"Close your eyes, Belle," Kessa said, and soon enough Belle was back in the meadow, anxiously counting the sheep.


	3. Prince Charming

Belle smiled to herself as she watched Cassie chase the sheep into their little fenced pasture by the barn. The sun was just dipping under the hills and the stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky. She could see Dorian, Miles, and her father going into the house for supper. The hearty smell of beef stew wafted to her on the gentle wind, and she found herself impatient for Cassie to finish her work.

Once the small dog finally did finish, Belle raced her to the house. She hurriedly took her seat at the table between her two brothers. "Oh, Dorian, tell us now that Belle's here! You promised you would when she came in." Her mother cried upon her arrival.

"Alright," Her older brother said smugly, winking at Belle. He hadn't wanted to leave the his only sister out, she was his favorite over Miles. "I asked Gwendolyn to marry me today, when I had to go to the village to get the pitchfork mended."

Cries of delight abounded, and Belle threw her arms around Dorian's neck while her father slapped him on the back with a grin. She was stunned for words, she could hardly believe that her wish had worked! Belle kissed him soundly on the cheek and said cheerfully, "I'm so happy, Dorian! Will you have a barn raising?"

"Yes, of course," Dorian assured her, "How else would we build it?"

"May I help with the raising, Father?" Miles asked eagerly.

Reuben smiled at his young son and said, falsely looking him over with a critical eye, "I suppose you can, Miles. You are fifteen years old now."

Miles shot Belle a superior look, to which she replied, "May I be flower girl at the wedding, Dorian?"

"No, you're too old for that, silly! But don't despair, Gwendolyn wishes you to be her maid of honor." Dorian said, ruffling Belle's hair in the same gesture her father often did, and affected the same fond look as he did it. "And a pretty one you'll make, too, Belle. After the wedding you'll have all the boys in the village running after you, I'd wager."

Her parents smiled knowingly, and Miles scoffed, but Belle blushed bright enough to obscure her freckles. Soon she occupied herself with eating her food and listening to the talk.

During the following week the O'Leary family saw much of Gwendolyn and her father, Victor. The barn for Dorian and Gwen's home had already been raised and the house was steadily rising. It would be a small, two story affair, much like the O'Leary family home: a family room and kitchen area on the ground floor, along with a bedroom for the couple, and three rooms upstairs, for any children or perhaps a sewing room for Gwen, who was quite the little seamstress.

The bride herself and Clara O'Leary had worked hard on the dresses for Gwen and Belle. The men's Sunday best would do for the wedding, it was fitting enough. Gwen's dress was simple, light blue in color with white ribbons and lace trim. Belle's dress was yellow with white ribbons and lace trim, and both of their necklines were modest, their sleeves short for the weather, and the dresses were made of fine wool. The wedding would be held at the local church, of course, and everyone in the village would be there.

Belle sighed as she lounged on her favorite rock in the light breeze. She was wearing her usual attire: a dark blue dress with a long, flowing skirt, short sleeves and a square cut neckline. Her plain white apron was tied at her waist, and her shepherdess's crook was laid beside her. Belle rolled over on her back and watched the clouds as she thought about her brother's fast approaching wedding and how things would change without him around as much.

Miles would just have to work a little bit harder, and her father had begun talking about buying another horse they could give Dorian as a wedding gift. A few of Belle's sheep and a baby calf (once it was weaned from its mother) would be going to a new home. As would Dorian and Gwendolyn both…Belle sighed, partially with joy at her brother's good fortune, but mostly with a sense of bittersweet longing. Her brother would be gone now, and she would still be tending her sheep. Why couldn't things just stay the same?

Belle was suddenly aware of the sound of hooves on the grass of the meadow. From the pace she could tell it was a horse, so she sat up eagerly. No one in the village would be riding a horse in the meadow at this time of day; it had to be a lost traveler of some sort.

The horse and his rider were still a fair distance away, but Belle could already admire the handsome animal. He was a large beast; huge in fact, and black in color and a mane of the same shade. Now, as he drew closer, his rider came into focus. The man was about the same age as her brother Dorian, and gorgeous. He had dark hair that curled around his ears, and a fine figure.

The man stopped his horse in front of her. The horse pranced and tossed its head, whinnying. The man on the horse was wearing very nice, expensive clothes, and his eyes were as dark as his hair. He smiled at her, and Belle couldn't help but smile back.

"Hello," He said, his voice melodious. "Could I perhaps trouble you with some company? I've been on the road since dawn and could use a rest."

"Of course, milord," Belle said, hastily hopping up to offer him her rock to sit on. She gave a little curtsy while she was at it: although she didn't know his precise rank, it was certainly a lot higher then hers was.

He gave a quirk of a smile as he got down off of his horse. As soon as his foot touched the ground, Cassie ran over, barking. Belle hurried to shush her, cuddling the small dog to her chest until she was contented.

"You can come and sit by me, shepherdess," he said with a smile. "I don't bite."

"I have a name," Belle said boldly, sitting beside him. "I'm not just a shepherdess."

"So what is your name?" He asked, stretching out on the rock.

Belle idly picked some wildflowers and began fashioning them into a crown. Now, with the handsome man asking her name, she didn't know if she should offer it up so freely. Belle didn't know this man or what he was doing here. But how could he harm her just with her name?

"My name is Belle," she said reluctantly, not even giving him her full Christian name, as she had with the mythical figure she had met not so long ago.

He smiled at her as he watched her nimble fingers work the stems of the flowers into a chain. "You may call me Demitrius," he told her.

"Demitrius?" Belle said, her light eyes meeting his dark ones. "But that's the same of the Prince of Connaught. He'd be about the same age as yourself, you know, and about to marry soon…

"To an Italian," The comment was passed in a sardonic manner, without the barest trace of the smile that had graced his full lips only a moment before.

Belle cocked her head to the side and finished her crown of flowers, which she promptly bestowed on her companion's head. "So," she said lightly, "You are the prince."

Demitrius grinned roguishly. "I suppose my comment about the Italian tipped you off?" He took the crown off of his head and began plucking the petals off. "I really don't want to marry her. My mother wants me to marry an Italian, like herself. Father just wants me to marry, and soon. Really, the girl's little better then you as far as noble blood goes, she's just the daughter of an earl."

"Really, your highness? I'm far from anything resembling noble blood. I'm sure the…what ever her title is will be an attentive and beautiful wife."

Demetrius smirked at her, saying, "Passing judgment on someone that you've never seen, eh? Even if it is polite and admiring, still not a good habit."

Belle blushed furiously at his comment. He must think her some silly little country girl, but really, was that estimate so far off the mark? Belle had never been far from her little village and the protection of her family.

As he was looking at her, Demetrius continued smirking and said, "Lady Caprice. That's the name of the daughter of the earl."

Not wanting to say something that would come out wrong in the presence of this beautiful man, Belle just murmured "Oh," very quietly and took a seat beside Demetrius. Silence prevailed for a few glorious moments, marred only by the lovely sounds of the spring birds, Cassie, and plaintive bleats from the sheep.

"So what are you doing here?" Belle asked, longing to break the silence.

"I just needed to get away from the castle," Demetrius said. He waved his hand in the air, as if to elaborate. "It's so busy, and Father kept bothering me about when I was to write to Caprice's father to formally ask for her hand. I avoided him for as long as I could, but the servants always tell him where I am."

"Will you be away from your home for long?" Belle ventured. If the prince needed it, it was only her duty to offer her own home. She found that she was captivated with this exotic man, and wanted to at least spend an hour or more with him.

"No, not long at all, I'm afraid," Demetrius said, glancing up at the sun. "In fact, I should be going now." He stood and regarded her silently.

Belle looked back at him, wishing that he wouldn't be leaving quite so soon. She found that she quite enjoyed Prince Demetrious' company and wanted to get to know him better. "Will you…do you often find the need to leave your castle?" Belle asked quietly.

Demetrius looked at her for a long, silent moment, and then he nodded, slowly. Suddenly, before Belle could stop him, Demetrius kissed her on the lips. The kiss was slow, soft, and very chaste.

"Perhaps I shall see you again, fair maiden," He leapt on his horse and it pawed the ground, eager to gallop. Demetrius raised a hand in farewell and the steed dashed off.

Belle raised her own hand in a similar gesture. Her finger touched her lips, where the warmth of her first real kiss still lingered.

A/N: As for the title Prince of Connaught, I don't think it has ever been a real title. Connaught is the province in Ireland where Belle lives, so I made up the title. I didn't want him to be prince of all of Ireland, it won't sit right with the plot.


	4. Enter The Gallant

After that chance meeting, Belle could not stop thinking about Demetrius. In her mind, he was perfect: handsome, rich, charming, and above all, a prince. He consumed her dreams during the night and day alike, every spare moment she had (and even the ones that weren't quite so spare) were spent thinking about him, tracing the lines of his face in her mind, replaying their conversation over and over again, and inventing new words that would hopefully pass between them.

Her infatuation with the prince even eclipsed her joy at her brother's wedding that was drawing ever closer. On the day of the wedding, as Belle watched her mother help Gwendolyn get ready, Belle couldn't help but entertain herself with the dream of one day marrying Demetrius.

This was her fancy all through the wedding. As she walked down the aisle, her arm interlinked with Dorian's boyhood friend, William, her eyes were all aglow with the thoughts floating across her mind. Belle's cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling, lost in her own little world. To anyone else, however, it looked as if she was in an absolute state of bliss for the good fortune of her brother.

This state of bliss was exactly as one young man perceived her to be in, as he watched her walk to the altar. The dress that Belle was wearing looked ravishing on her, and the young man wiped the palms of his hands on his pants to dry them.

The young man's name was Cyrus Garrity, and he had watched Belle for a while now. Cyrus was like most young men in the village, a farm boy, with no real claim to fortune or fame (unless you were to count the infamous apple pilfering of two seasons ago). But he supposed he was a nice enough person, with a strong body and with a face that wasn't ugly by any means.

But, his mind was wandering, and he couldn't very well watch Belle when his mind was wandering. Now Gwendolyn stood beside Belle and the rumble of the pastor's voice filled the little building. Cyrus loved to watch Belle, the fluid, graceful way in which she moved. Her hair was a beautiful strawberry blond, and her eyes were light blue. Belle's figure was slight, and her skin was like the palest milk.

Every day of his life, that being since he was about thirteen or so, Cyrus had prayed and hoped that Belle would say something to him. Alas, all that was really said between the pair were the pleasantries of words exchanged about the weather. It saddened his heart, for Cyrus was sure what he was feeling was love, love of the deepest and most unrequited passion. And now, as his love stood beside the prettiest girl in the village, Cyrus thought that she outshone the bride in every way.

The wedding passed as most weddings did, and the joining of two souls who were very much in love delighted everyone. Dorian and Gwendolyn speedily went off to their new home, and the O'Leary family went back to their old home for a period of quiet contemplation.

The four remaining members of the family went about their leisure time in their own way: Clara O'Leary slowly made the evening meal, Reuben O'Leary fixed small things in the house to keep his hands busy, Miles O'Leary contentedly played with Cassie, and Belle O'Leary, our heroine, patiently darned socks while her mind was far away from her task.

Presently she came out of her daydream and looked about her. The house was sad and lonely even though just one occupant was missing.

"Do you think Dorian's happy with Gwendolyn? I mean…do you think she loves him as much as we do?" Belle asked, lying her sewing in her lap.

Her mother smiled sadly at her, and walked over to her only daughter. Clara held Belle's head to her breast and kissed the top of her head. "Oh, dear, sweet Belle," she whispered, her gray eyes filling with tears, "I'm sure Dorian is fine. No one can ever love you like your own family, but Gwendolyn loves Dorian well enough."

"Oh," Belle said quietly, feeling her mother's tears fall into her hair. She felt a little like crying too, Dorian had always been there for her and now he was gone. Suddenly she was struck with a thought that troubled her greatly. "Mother, Father…what shall you do when Miles and I also move away? Will you be all alone, then?"

Reuben smiled at her and Miles looked up from the stick he had been trying to wrest from Cassie. Cassie whined and dropped the stick, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm sure either you or Miles, or both, will stay here after you marry. If you don't, then we'll just hire on some hands that can help me with the work that I'll be getting to old to do." Reuben assured her.

"What about the sheep?" Belle asked in earnest. "What if I got married and moved far away and couldn't mind the sheep anymore? Cassie can't keep them all by herself, you know." Upon hearing her name, Cassie hopped into her mistress's lap, spilling her neglected project onto the floor.

"Well," her father said, from his seat at the table, "I suppose that occupation will fall to the first little one Dorian and Gwen have, that's all. Why do you ask, Belle?"

Belle suddenly blushed and bent down to pick her sewing up, a disgruntled Cassie jumping down to lie at her feet. Miles scoffed at his sister, saying, "What do you think, _Arabella_, that some foreigner will come and whisk you away?"

Belle refused to answer her brother's retort, but her mind whispered Demetrius' name in rapture, and in mere seconds she was again lost in thoughts of him.

The next day it seemed that her prayers were answered. Shortly after Belle had finished her mid day meal, Prince Demetrius trotted into the meadow, this time on a horse that was a rich chestnut color and smaller then the one he had ridden before.

Gracefully, Demetrius climbed down from his horse as Belle hastened to curtsey to him. Cassie barked at the prince, but soon lost interest and began chasing a frog. When Belle straightened to look at Demetrius, he was looking at her with his dark eyes and frowning.

"You did it wrong. Set down your stick think and catch your skirt with both hands. No, not like that, your hands shouldn't be so tight. Do it more delicately, and cross your ankles…look down, dip…"

Bewildered, Belle followed his directions. Then Demetrius counted out five full seconds, during which she stayed in position. After that short moment, he bid her to stop and she looked back up at him. He was smirking at her, one hand in a pocket. He was leaning against his horse, the reins caught up in his other hand.

"That was very nice, Belle. My own mother couldn't have done better."

This just made Belle blush, and she sat down on the grass, tucking her legs underneath her and folding her hands demurely in her lap. "You find need to frequent the meadow again, milord?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, it appears that I do. How now, fair maiden?" The prince asked, suddenly amused at the expression of contentment on her face. "Have you counted the hours 'til this meeting?"

Belle smiled sweetly at him, her cheeks quite rosy. "Well, milord, I can't honestly say that I haven't. Have you written to the Lady Caprice's father?"

Demetrius sighed, and his face darkened. "No, not as of yet," he replied shortly.

"I've upset you!" Belle cried. "I didn't mean to, your highness, I really should have know better. After all, you came here to get away from the castle, not to dwell on how things are there…"

Demetrius flipped his hand at her impatiently to shush her. "Don't mind that, maiden. I've convinced them to let me pick the one I'll marry."

Belle's heart leaped into her throat, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She swallowed heavily and said, barely above a whisper, "Who will you marry, milord?"

"I don't know yet," Demetrius said. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, frowning. "It has to be someone at least as good as Caprice, if not better. However, I'd simply adore making the King angry…" The prince trailed off, looking carefully at Belle. "Are you sure that you don't have any royal blood or such?"

Belle began to shake her head, but then she stopped and stood up excitedly. "I don't know, milord," she said in a rush, her eyes bright and shining with her idea. "But are you suggesting that if I were some sort of noblewoman, you'd marry me?"

Demetrius took a step toward her, his hand alighted on her shoulder. He rubbed his thumb against her collar bone, sending shivers down Belle's spine. She became weak in the knees and it became hard for her to remember how to breathe.

"Yes," Demetrius whispered, his face very close to hers, "I would marry you, Belle, if you were of noble birth. I don't see how you could change your circumstances, however."

"Please, milord," Belle begged, clasping her hands in front of her and looking up at her prince. "Come back here tomorrow? I can't explain it, but please…come back tomorrow?"

A long moment passed, with Demetrius looking deep into the shepherdess's eyes. "So be it," He whispered, and kissed her for the second time. This time, it was lingering. When he bit gently at her lower lip, she parted her lips for him, and for the first time she felt the touch of a man's tongue on her own.


	5. The Fay Court

As soon as Demetrius left, Belle went into the woods and promptly began scouring them for a white rose bush. After about half an hour she finally found one and plucked a few of the petals. Belle fairly ran to the brook and tossed the petal in, saying as she was still out of breath "I…seek one of…the fay,"

Soon Kessa was there, laughing at Belle's flushed face and disheveled locks. "Seamus again, eh?" she asked, and didn't wait for Belle to reply.

There was a bright flash of light, and when Belle could see around her again she found herself in a place that was quite unlike the quiet cave from her previous visit. She was in a crowded hall this time, with the sounds of merry making, music and general yelling all around. Everyone seemed to have a goblet in their hand or a dancing partner in their arms.

"Seamus!" Kessa called, cupping her tiny hands around her mouth. "Seamus, where are you?"

Belle looked around her, temporarily forgetting about her prince. The people around her were so varied, so interesting…there were creatures with wings, creatures that were part animal, most with pointed ears, some with unusual skin tones. They were all of different shapes and sizes and Belle's head was spinning from the intense level of noise. She had never in her life been in contact with this many people.

"Seamus, there you are! I've brought the little Shepherdess to you again," Kessa called out, seizing him from his dancing partner.

"Ah," he said, catching the girl by her skirt, "Come here lass, and calm yourself down." Seamus pulled her into a quiet nook and sat her down on a stool. Kessa flew off, and when she came back a gorgeous winged boy was following her, and he was carrying a tray overflowing with food and drink.

Seamus plucked a mug of something from the young boy's tray and sipped at the contents. "This'll do," he said, waving the boy off. Seamus handed the mug to Belle, who took it. The liquid in it was an amber color, and didn't give off any particular smell. Upon sipping it, Belle supposed that it was a type of ale, or possibly wine. Or perhaps both, one could never know upon taking food from the fay.

"Feeling better?" Kessa asked sympathetically, pressing her small hand to Belle's still flushed cheek. Belle nodded and swiped some of her hair from her face. The drink she had been given was quite good, and she contented herself with sipping frequently at it.

"I suppose you haven't just come to bear witness to the revelry of the fay court?" Seamus asked her as soon as her flushed face had faded to its usual hue.

"Now," Belle said quickly, brushing Kessa away from her cheek. "I was rather hoping to join a different sort of court. Could you do that, I mean?" she asked, suddenly a bit anxious. "Could you manage to change the very blood which ruins in my veins?"

"Of course I can, lass. What do you take me for, some two-bit charlatan?"

"No, most certainly not, Mr. Seamus!" Belle cried, her cheeks burning. "It just seemed such a miraculous thing to do, to change someone's history and family station with no more then a thought."

Seamus smiled at her and made a gesture for her to down the rest of the elixir in her handle-less mug. "What sort of a noble would you like to be? And may I inquire as to why you would like to leave your honest profession, shepherdess?" Then, with a devious twinkle in his eye, he added, "The lambs getting a bit unruly?"

Belle smiled as she swallowed the last of her drink. "No. You see, Mr. Seamus, there's this prince…" And she related the tale of her very own Prince Charming to him.

When Belle had finished, Seamus lit his pipe and laughed good-naturedly. "Our little shepherdess has fallen in love, has she? Well, well, no fault in love," here he paused to blow a few gloriously shaped smoke rings. "But you seemed to have passed over my first question: What sort of a noble would you like to be?"

The little winged boy, summoned by the smaller fay in their company, floated by and replaced Belle's empty mug (still in her hand, there was no table within reach) with a delicate crystal goblet, which was filled a sort of nutty-flavored red wine. As she sampled the other wares the winged boy offered, Belle gave serious thought to the question Mr. Seamus had posed. The Lady Caprice, Belle's former contender, was the daughter of an Earl. Why shouldn't she one-up the Italian while she had the chance? Belle blushed at her…mischievous? Yes, that was it: her mischievous thoughts.

None the less, she found herself asking innocently, "In nobility, what ranks higher then an earl?"

"Everything," a dryad in the arms of a faun giggled as the pair traversed by. Before Belle could reply, they were lost in the crowd once again, the swell of voices and creatures hiding them from her eyes and ears.

When Seamus agreed quite solemnly with the disappeared tree-spirit, Belle sighed in aspiration. "What I meant was, what's the very next title up?"

"Ah," Seamus milled, "The Italian you mentioned is an earl or the daughter thereof. I believe the next step up from an earl is a marquess, or in your case, a marchioness."

"Then that's what I'll be," Belle said to herself, low enough so Seamus couldn't hear her. She raised her head, and briefly took a sip of her drink. "Mr. Seamus, I want to be a Marchioness."

"I see," Seamus said slowly. "How would you go about doing this then? Would you like to live in a castle, with your family and whatnot?"

"Well, no," Belle said, blinking in a bewildered fashion. "That's not really what I want. What I want, is to be a Marchioness without any of the rest of my circumstances changing. And that it should be a thing that all in my family knows of."

"Alrighty then. That is what you want, lass?" Seamus asked. Belle nodded, and he smiled on her. "You may find a bit of a surprise when you get home. Go on now, the sheep are alone and restless."

And before Belle could even thank Seamus, Kessa had her hand on her cheek and had whisked her away.

…………………………………………………..

"Miles, Belle…I need to talk to you for a moment," their father, Rueben told them with a grave face.

Belle had only been back at home a few minutes, and already she was sewing sedately at the table, Cassie at her feet. At her father's pronouncement, however, she set down her sewing and looked up. Miles came over from the door and sat beside his sister, looking a tad worried. Their father was always a gay, hearty man, but now he almost looked defeated.

"Children…Clara…" at his wife's name he took up her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "You see, there's something very important about our life that I haven't told you. I was born into a wealthy family, and quite a noble one at that. My father was the Marquee of a very tiny province, but Marquee of one all the same. I had one brother who was older then me, and when my father died all of his land passed to Walter. I was disowned in name by my father before this happened, because I fell in love with your mother and ran off with her."

Belle blinked in confusion. She swallowed, and then asked, "So what does this have to do with us now?" Thoughts raced through her mind, but she didn't want to hope for too much. Obviously, this is what Mr. Seamus had reffered to when he mentioned a surprise waiting for her at home.

"Well," Reuben said, drawing a deep breath. "Walter has died, leaving behind a widow and a young boy, hardly twelve."

"And…?" Miles asked. He didn't hold to much interest as of yet, eleven was not an age group he preferred to have his adventures with.

"This means, Miles, that I am now basically Marquee in my late brother's stead."

Belle fell in a dead faint.

AN: Oh my god, I never have time to do anything anymore. I'm constantly at play practice, school, or sleeping. I'm so, so sorry for the late (and short) update. I thank my reviewers, I love you guys::huggles:

Well, let me know what you think of it. Bye bye for now!


	6. Surprises

As she waited anxiously for Prince Demetrius to arrive, Belle picked flowers and tore the petals off of them, chanting in a low voice the well-known mantra, "He loves me…he loves me not…he loves me…he loves me not…" over and over again.

The prince finally did gallop onto the scene, on the same horse he had ridden the last time she saw him. It was early afternoon, and his cheeks were flushed with the pleasure of a quick, hard ride, and he was laughing as he swung down from his horse.

"Dearest Belle, how do you do this day? Did you manage to change the blood in your veins over night?"

Belle smiled as he caught her hand in his own kissing it lightly. The way he moved now, so sure of himself, not cynical at all, (which she had seen in him yesterday) made her heart swell with fondness for him. She laughed with him, and did the curtsey he taught her without a flaw.

"I'm pleased to inform my lordship that I did manage to change my blood. My father is now a Marquee."

"A Marquee?" Demetrius chuckled, delighted. "Well, that makes you even better then the little Italian wench, doesn't it?" He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled her to his horse. "Come, I shall take you away from this place. Come with me, now!" He pulled her hand insistently.

"Shouldn't I let my family know? They'll be worried about me, I can't just leave." As much as she wanted to be carried away by this handsome rouge, her loyalty to her family was too strong to allow it. "Please?"

Demetrius tossed her a smile fit for a rascal more then a prince, and picked her up by the waist. He set her down on the horse, sidesaddle, and climbed up after her. Cassie yipped at them, and Belle shushed her. "I'll be back soon, Cassie. Just wait here…!"

Without warning Demetrius spurred the horse, who reared up and galloped off. Belle was thankful when the beast slowed, and also thankful to see that her beau was going in the direction of her home.

Belle blinked stupidly at her parents. "What do you mean?" she whispered, her hand rising to her mouth.

She and Demetrius had ridden to her home, and rushed in, the good news rushing out of Belle's mouth in a torrent. Now, by her father's grim face you wouldn't think it was such a good idea.

Silently he jerked his head to his right. Belle looked, and for the first time noticed a young man about her age in the room. He was standing there, red faced, looking at his feet.

"Young Cyrus just came here to ask for your hand in marriage. We talked it over, and your father and I thought it would be best if you two were to get married." Clara tried to put a hand on Belle's shoulder, but she roughly shrugged it off.

"What do you mean by this? I'm not some sheep, just to bargained with! I've fallen in love, and I want to marry Demetrius!" A small part of her told Belle that she was being both overdramatic and childish, but the larger part heartily agreed. She always had been in charge of her life, and things were not about to change now.

"Arabella, you stop this nonsense. You're going to marry Cyrus, and that's final." Her father's tone was hardly ever stern with her, and when it was he always used her full first name. Hearing that hateful name pass his lips, Belle started crying.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me. I want out of this stupid family!" Belle dramatically ran up the stairs, leaving Demetrius scowling. With a swirl of his traveling cloak, he went outside.

And then, under the guise of absolute despair, Belle cried her beautiful blue eyes bloodshot in the space of a few hours. Miles had been sent to fetch both the flock of sheep and dear Cassie, who was Belle's only companion in the advancing darkness.

Since her main goal for the evening was to avoid contact with all other humans, it nearly went needless to say that she went without supper that evening. The pain of her empty stomach was nothing compared to the ripping pain of her broken heart. Cassie was distraught, and her whimpers were a small comfort to her mistress.

How could her parents be so cruel? Belle had never asked for anything ever in her life, save for this one luxury. But was it really so frivolous, to ask to be allowed to marry the person that she loved? Demetrius was the perfect gentleman, but besides that, Belle loved him. She had adored him from the first moment she laid eyes on him. He was so unlike any man she had ever seen. Part of it, she supposed, was the Italian coloring he inherited from his mother. But it was so much more than his dark hair (which curled roguishly over his ears) or his similarly dark eyes and skin…it was the noble way in which he carried himself, his commanding nature, and his deliciously smooth voice, and a thousand other things about him that Belle had yet to discover.

And then there was Cyrus. The bumbling idiot, Belle thought, and immediately reproached herself for it. He was no such thing. In fact, Cyrus had always been quite pleasant with her. He always took care to speak a greeting when they passed one another in the village, or say a few words during longer encounters. Belle, in turn, was unfailingly polite. However, she hand never given much thought to her courtesy. It was the same way she treated Gwendolyn's father, for example, but she certainly didn't want to marry him!

Also, Belle thought to herself as she absently stroked Cassie's fur, nobody could argue that Cyrus was as pleasing to the eye as Demetrius. That would be naught but a blatant lie.

Once again, Belle had to chastise herself. Cyrus wasn't disfigured or hard-faced, but the fact was that he was no prince. His blond hair was thing and neatly cut, and hung as flat as Belle's own. Although his emerald eyes _did_ shine in a most pleasing manner, Cyrus wasn't the man she wanted to marry. That particular description fell to a certain prince, whose voice was sweeter than an entire chorus of angels.

It was at this moment, as Belle was reflecting on all the good qualities of her would-be lover, that a soft tap on her window was heard. Instantly Belle went to the window and opened it. She was disappointed to find her prince sitting astride his steed, hefting another rock in his left hand in case the first one had not roused her.

Understanding came, then hesitation, and last but most certainly not least, determination. Belle quickly snatched up her dark blue cloak, slipped on her boots and tucked Cassie under her arm. With utmost care she climbed down from her second story window. Quick as a flash, the prince, the shepherdess, and the Icelandic sheepdog had stolen off into the night.

A/N: Goodness, this is short, isn't it? Very tiny chapter…okay, sorry for it and whatnot. As I'm writing this, I'm about halfway through the next chapter, and it shouldn't be quite so short. Also, June 6-25 don't bother to check for updates. I will be out of the country on this Student Ambassador thingie, and will not have access to my computer. However, I will still be writing, so maybe I will give you more then one chapter upon my return! (Not likely, but we can hope…)


	7. A Journey

The next morning, Belle woke up in a fine bed with a read feather mattress, instead of the straw one she was used to. She also woke up next to a comfortingly warm, mostly naked prince.

As she laid there, recounting the events of the night before, Belle couldn't help but cuddle closer to Demetrius. They had ridden for hours the night before, stopping when the moon was high in the night sky. The inn they found was grand, and all three of the travelers were tired. So tired, in fact, that Belle had only to half-heartedly fend off Demetrius' advances before he left her alone.

However, Belle had decided that it was wonderful to sleep with another person in the same bed with you. He was so unnaturally warm, and gloriously soft. Belle propped herself up on an elbow and tenderly brushed his hair back from his forehead. Slowly his dark, sleep clouded eyes opened. Demetrius smiled at Belle as he stretched.

The movement in the bed brought Cassie bounding between them. She was already fully awake and frisky, biting at bedclothes, hair, and fingers without discrimination.

"Uh, Cassie, stop it," Belle mumbled, shoving her hands under her very plush pillow. Then she blushed, realizing how familiar she was being in the presence of her true love. "I'm sorry, your highness," she stuttered. "I guess I shouldn't have brought her, Cassie can be such a bother."

"Nonsense," Demetrius shushed her in his sleep laden voice. He gave Cassie a hearty scratch behind the ears. "I love dogs. What is she, an Icelandic Sheepdog?"

Belle nodded, her blush only intensifying. "Yes, milord."

Before she could manage anything else, Demetrius covered her mouth with his. Everything else was forgotten as Belle allowed herself to become lost in the experience. Demetrius pulled away after a moment, leaving Belle panting and all but begging for more.

"We're going to be married soon, Belle," He whispered tenderly. "Call me Demetrius."

"Okay," Belle said, warmth absolutely spreading from her toes to the tips of her ears. All over she tingled, as Demetrius wrapped his arms around her, warming her. Cassie had settled herself on top of the two, and watched them with large, wet eyes. "Demetrius," she said, and the taste of the name was sweet on her lips. "Speaking of names, I haven't been completely honest with you, I'm afraid."

Demetrius laughed and ran a fond hand down Belle's hair. "What? You're not really a shepherdess?"

The rich sound of his careless mirth caused Belle to giggle lightly. "No," she said, squeezing the foreign hand that was resting comfortably on her navel. "My full first name isn't Belle. It's Arabella."

This turned him mock pensive. He bid her to turn over so he could look at her. "I guessed as much when your father called you that, darling. So your full name would be?"

"Arabella Isolde O'Leary."

"Lady Arabella Isolde O'Leary." Demetrius corrected softly, placing a tender kiss on the hand he brought to his mouth. "Soon to be Princess Arabella. Now," He said, and promptly dropped her hand and threw the coverlet of the both of them. He stood, strode over to the window, and threw back the window coverings with as much vigor as he had the bed clothes.

Early afternoon sunlight flooded the room, changing the pale strawberry blond of Belle's hair to a blazing reddish gold. She blinked in the harsh light, while the prince admired her from afar. This couldn't last long, of course, and soon enough he had pulled Belle off of the bed and kissed her.

"Come on, Princess," he said as he released her. "We have to find you a proper dress or two."

And she smiled which made him chuckle again. They took their midday meal with much conversation and subsequent laughter. Demetrius found out everything he could about her family and what her life had been like before he infiltrated it.

He, on the other hand, was rather closed-mouthed on the subject of his own family. Of course, Belle knew some small things (the royal family couldn't exactly stay out of the public eye): both his parents were alive, as well as an older sister of his who was widowed before her time, and he also had a younger brother that still spent his days in the nursery.

All during the dress buying expedition, Belle worried and fretted that Demetrius' family wouldn't like or approve of her. After all, she was just a simple shepherdess, a silly country girl. How could she compare with the Lady Caprice, even though a miracle had given her a higher rank than the Italian? Doubtless _she_ was a perfect lady, with few if any vices.

By the time Demetrius had spent a small fortune on her new wardrobe and also procured a horse for Belle and Cassie, he had sensed her uneasiness. As they set out on the last leg of their journey the prince tactfully addressed the issue.

"Did you not find the dresses I had tailored for you adequate? You must still be attached to your old things."

Belle immediately blushed that gorgeous rosy color Demetrius adored. Seeing her like that, blushing like the girl she was, and wearing the luxurious dark green traveling frock he had just purchased, set him aflame with yet to be quenched passion. This girl was so simple, so pure, that to be truthful, Demetrius could not wait to deflower her.

"No, milord, that's not it at all. It's just that…" unsure of how to express herself, she twisted the reins of the delicate white palfrey she was riding. Cassie sat primly in front of the saddle, her tail wagging. "I'm worried about what your family will think of me."

Demetrius' delightful laugh rang out. "Yes, you should refrain from calling me Demetrius in front of that lot. No, there's no need to worry," his laughter slowly died away, but his eyes and lips smiled. "My father will adore you, as do I. Mother will dote on you if given half the chance. Little Gabriele will love Cassie, cementing his affection for you. Bevin, on the other hand…well, don't worry about her."

And then when Demetrius smiled and maneuvered his horse so he could touch her arm with his hand, Belle knew that everything would be fine.

It was not long after the simple touch that so instilled Belle with confidence had graced her skin that she found herself in front of the grandest place she had ever seen. And soon after they first caught sight of the stone castle, certainly sooner then she liked, they were at the proverbial doorstep. Their horses were taken away, and Cassie trailed right at her mistress's side.

Belle's heartbeat seemed to match the echoing steps of her finely clad feet on the stone floor in volume. Demetrius' hand rested lightly on the small of her back.

One of the servants approached them and asked if she could be of any service to her lord. Demetrius inquired as to the location of his family, while Belle's eyes roamed over the rich tapestries and paintings, statues and vases. It was all so beautiful.

Before she could properly get her fill of the entry hall, Demetrius was guiding her through countless corridors.

"We're just in time for tea, darling," Demetrius told her. "It's being taken in the gardens by the female part of the household. Perhaps Gabriele will be there as well."

Belle only nodded numbly and checked to be sure Cassie was still close at hand. When she was found to be wandering, the dog was swiftly punished by being picked up and carried (which we all know is no punishment at all).

They eventually made their way to the gardens, and Belle got her first look at the two women whom she was already frightened of.

His mother was, in a word, ravishing. Even though she must have been in her early forties, she looked to be a decade younger. Her dark hair was caught up in a golden net, and her gown was of the same color, a contrast to her dark coloring. The queen's irises were like stray drops of ink.

Her majesty's only daughter, by sharp disparity, was matronly in shape. Her coloring took after her father, evident by the doughy hue of her skin and wheat like hair. Her hair was odd, very blond, and when the sun caught it in certain places, it almost looked silver. It was then that Belle realized that most of Bevin's hair had in fact turned grey. As Belle was pondering how a woman hardly nearing twenty-five could accomplish such a feat, Bevin turned and looked at Belle.

Bevin's eyes were like her mother's, but while the queen's eyes were warm and smiling, the princess's were frozen chips, devoid of all cheer. When they passed the young girl and rested on her brother, they seemed to warm from a cold solid to a tepid liquid, but not quite to the degree that her mother's were.

"Demetrius, we were worried about you. Where did you wander off to?" His mother stood and embraced him, her words lilting and playful.

"And who is this?" Bevin asked, her tone the polar opposite of the queen's.

"May I present to you," Demetrius began with a bow, "The Lady Arabella Isolde O'Leary, daughter of the Marquee O'Leary." He then straightened and looked pointedly at Belle.

Within a breath, Belle knew what he wanted. She dropped a perfect curtsy, just as Demetrius had taught her to. When Belle straightened up, the queen was smiling kindly at her. Still looking directly at her, she asked, "So this is the one you want to marry, I presume?"

Demetrius nodded, and something in his demeanor nearly suggested something that was akin to a declaration of war. His sister's face was also grim, and Cassie crowded nervously at Belle's legs, from where she had been set down so her mistress could curtsy.

"Well, she should meet your father then, shouldn't she?"

A/N: Okay, here is a chapter! Not short, but not long…not very exciting either, but you need some semi boring chapters to keep the story going…I love my reviewers and, so show your love back!


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